Evil Within the Ghetto

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
When the choice is up to one to kill innocent lives, will he do it...?

Submitted: June 21, 2010

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Submitted: June 21, 2010

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Forked lightning streaked across the grey sky, drawing a crazed calligraphy in the air. Rain battered relentlessly on the windows of the house that stood in the middle of the ghetto.
In the house itself, the lights were flickering ominously. Cobwebs flew around at the mercy of the wind, while the silhouettes of old paintings stood out faintly in the fading light. Anna was huddled in one corner of the house, gingerly caressing her baby; the dull atmosphere that hung around them did not dampen her spirits.
Then, the door burst open.
The German townspeople flooded into the house, the features on their faces twisted into ones with rage. “There she is!” one of them, a fellow villager known as Mach, vociferated, his fingers pointing accusingly at Anna. His back-drawn, snarling lips exposed his brown-stained teeth, and his little, wicked, blood-shot eyes gleamed in horrid reflection of his madness. A wave of cries and bellows rippled through the crowd.
 Fear plastered across Anna’s face, her breath coming out in short erratic pants, and her clammy hands clutching tightly to her baby. Her heart was palpitating nervously, slamming hard against her chest. Her fear was contagious, as her baby started wailing.
Then a man in crisp khaki uniform stepped into the house, his badge portraying the honours of a Polish policeman, and his name tag stating “Bernard”. “ORDER, EVERYONE!” his gruff voice barked, taking control of the situation at hand.
His hand reached for his rifle and held it in position, while his withering glare forced the crowd to keep quiet, except for the occasional hushed whispers. His enormous shoulders were bunched and rounded, and grape-fruit sized muscles protruded from his chest. The back of his short neck was a single lump of iron sinew which bulged beyond the base of his skull.
But behind this confident outlook, he was fighting with his mental commander. It was his duty to eliminate the problem at hand, for the townspeople had complained numerous times. Perhaps the biggest temptation was that his commander would offer him sums of money for every head he killed. But Anna was a human being too! A facade of batting emotions had now unknowingly been etched on his face.
Anna, on the other hand, was eyeing the townspeople, clinging tightly to the baby, as if it was her lifeline. Her tears formed little streams down her cheek, as she screamed, “Leave my baby alone! Kill me, but don’t kill him!” Fear was now permanently imprinted on her face.
It happened.
Perhaps it was Mach’s impatience, Bernard’s temptations, or a villager by accident…
Thunder resonated, but it was not the weather. The wails stopped. Anna let out a shrill scream, breaking into uncontrollable sobs, and deploring her loss.
 “You might as well finish her off!” Mach hollered, and the others nodded in agreement. Breaking under the pressure, he let the rifle send out another sound of thunder. Anna’s blood stained the floorboards, her withered body dropping.
She was Jewish.


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